ENPages
6
3 We have converted our hall down stairs into a shop with a counter 14 feet long on which we have piled our summer khaki (kaka) suits, summer underwear, superfluous shoes, neckties, socks, overcoats, soap, tooth brushes, mirrors, shirts - superfluous everything - and the Albanians, Turks, French soldiers and officers, Russians - talking chiefly with fingers and hands - have come in to barter and tell us how much too high our prices are. Izzy stores in Salonique are tame in comparisen with ours. I sold my military cap (too small) for four eggs. My new shoes from America (too large) for 60 francs ($12) my $3.50 cords (worn one month) for 25 francs. We will have to carry our own baggage, and will be able to rebuy at lower prices in Paris. - Last night we had a "sendoff" at the Missionaries' - Mrs and Mr. Kennedy. A room- ful of about 150 Albanians with front reserved seats for Americans. Albanian girls glee in squeeky voices singing Albanian songs. A strange chant for marriages in which one side represents the bride and the other the lamenting relatives of the bride. Albanian gendarmes singing a rousing but inharmonious national-unity song. Jimmy Patten in Seolid songs. Davis in piano classical. Rupperby in ragtime. Foxie read a Kansas farmer piece. We sang two Stanford songs (The Cardinal is Waving and Come Join the Band) and gave a pocket to Albania.
7
that was the last. And while the performance was going on, I kept watching the map biblical in front of us, trying to realize that we were in ancient Illyria. The Lords Prayer and the Ten Commandments in large print in Albanian on the wall by the map. A speech by a youth whose brother was recently shot by the Turks. A leader of young nationalists. The President's wife - Mrs. Themistocles we shook hands with. Mr. Themistocles was ill. The star pupil of the Missionaries' Sunday School - little Sophocles - sat on the floor by the great round stove in the center of the room. -- Tomorrow will be Sunday. Tonight is wintry, with a [touch?] of snow in the sky. We will land in Paris in the [fuelless?] season. But my heart will be in Southern and Central California - so that I will be warm, at least. - I hope you are not becoming frequently discouraged with your music. You mustn't be like me, and have made just a lot of beginnings of things in life. For then, tho I would sympathize with, and understand you, I'd have to spank you for making my mistakes. But I'd love you just the same.
Your Wynne.
